


make him whistle like a missile bomb

by jongdaesang (d10smessi)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Content, Unresolved Sexual Tension, female lingerie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 12:43:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12433110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d10smessi/pseuds/jongdaesang
Summary: As if one big cosmic joke, Jongin can clearly see the panty lines underneath the fabric of Kyungsoo’s sweatpants.(aka Kyungsoo likes wearing female lingerie and Jongin? Jongin likes Kyungsoo. Very much.)





	make him whistle like a missile bomb

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stardustink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustink/gifts).



> here have the first part i'm pissed that i lost the 5.5k after this fuck

When Jongin comes inside the flat that he shares with Kyungsoo, he’s completely surprised to see the older man looking harassed. His glasses are slipping down the bridge of his nose and his lips are jutting into a pout. Sweat is beading on his forehead and his hair is completely mussed.

 

He looks like he has just finished a round of quick sex except Kyungsoo is wearing his lounge shirt that Jongin knows has a hole on one armpit and a thin pair of sweatpants. 

 

Jongin loves that pair of sweats—they’re overused and old, hugging Kyungsoo’s thick thighs beautifully.

 

And when he says beautifully, Jongin means that it turns him on. Which, honestly, is a little ridiculous. Kyungsoo has conditioned him to become horny at the sight of sweatpants of all things.

 

“Hey, Kyungsoo,” he greets, trying to appear nonchalant and not, well, thirsty as fuck— _thirsty to fuck_.

 

“Jongin, hi,” Kyungsoo groans and he runs his small hand over his hair. He looks even more sexed up this way and Jongin averts his eyes from the way the shirt clings on Kyungsoo’s soft tummy and the curve of his torso.

 

Jongin toes his sneakers off as he walks towards their small kitchen. He grabs a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge—the blue one, of course. He twists the cap and drinks a fourth of the bottle before he leans to the wall, trying to appear cool.

 

Kyungsoo still looks stressed and Jongin, like the good flatmate that he is, shoots the older male a worried glance, asking, “Something wrong?”

 

The other man deflates like a balloon and he slouches even more. With a sigh, he complains, pouting even more that has Jongin biting his lower lip to curb the beginnings of a whimper. “It’s Chanyeol. I think he dropped my flash drive when we were doing our report and I can’t find where it is now.”

 

Jongin sympathizes with him. Chanyeol is a year older than Kyungsoo and the two are both fifth years while Jongin’s in his fourth year. The three of them are graduating this year and Jongin has been flatmates with Kyungsoo since the second semester of his freshman year when Kyungsoo’s best friend, Baekhyun, moves in with his long time boyfriend, Jongdae.

 

It’s been years and yet, Kyungsoo still has this effect on Jongin. And Jongin is nothing but a loyal guy and he’s been single—and waiting for Do Kyungsoo—ever since. He’s only had one partner after the realization of his feelings (trademarked) over his oblivious flatmate.

 

It’s truly tragic except Jongin doesn’t mind being within the sphere of Kyungsoo’s existence and he’s had a bunch of hook-ups since then. A series of one night stands with no strings attached and barely any names exchanged—just enjoying university life without all the angst of popular Korean dramas nowadays.

 

Jongin hums and he tilts his head a bit to the side. Kyungsoo looks like he’s about to tear his own hair any moment now and he pities the older man, suggesting, “Have you tried looking under the couch? Maybe it’s there.”

 

Kyungsoo huffs and Jongin regrets his suggestion instantly when his flatmate drops down to his knees and his forearms and crawls. He crawls! Jongin’s sanity abandons him as he grips the bottle of Gatorade tightly, hoping his hold on the plastic is enough to keep himself together.

 

Jongin tries—he truly does—but his eyes still go to Kyungsoo’s ass, all presented up in the air like the best offering in the world. And then, to his surprise, he can make out what seems to be impressions against the threadbare cotton of the man’s sweats.

 

He squints his eyes and he’s sure—he’s absolutely sure that boxers are not supposed to leave marks like that. Neither will briefs or boxer shorts, no matter how adventurous the cut of it is. He takes a swig of Gatorade and the chill of the liquid goes down his throat hard, like it’s washing down a lump the size of Mainland China.

 

Or the size of the knowledge that those are panty lines against the garment of Kyungsoo’s sweats. Panty lines. Panty. Lines.

 

Jongin feels faint, suddenly. His fingers bury into the plastic bottle like it’s the flesh of Kyungsoo’s bottom.

 

“Oh,” Kyungsoo suddenly gasps and the sound sends a delightful jolt to Jongin’s very much interested dick. He can feel his mouth going dry and his tongue feeling heavier when Kyungsoo crawls back.

 

Jongin closes his eyes but the goddamn panty lines are printed on the back of his eyelids. They’ll haunt his lonely nights and, for sure, even his daydreams. 

 

“Found it!” Kyungsoo enthuses. He dusts himself off when he stands up and turns to Jongin with a smile. Jongin angles himself away, moving behind their counter to hide the very obvious and very large problem inside his pants. The older man says, “Thanks, Jongin.”

 

Jongin laughs nervously and he replies, “It’s no problem.”

 

“I have some more stuff to do so I…” Kyungsoo trails off, head pointed towards his own bedroom. Jongin gives the man a pained smile as Kyungsoo saunters back to his room. The slam of his door is soft and it does nothing to drown out the thunderstorms resounding in Jongin’s ear.

 

Fucking Park Chanyeol.

 

 

*

 

 

Jongin is lying if he says he does not obsess about it.

 

At first, he thinks maybe he’s gone insane. Maybe pining for Do Kyungsoo for four years has gotten a few screws in his head loose. It’s bound to happen one day what with the whole living in one apartment thing.

 

But thinking about it, some things make sense alongside this revelation. For one, in all the years that they have been roommates, Kyungsoo and he have never shared laundry, even once. Kyungsoo always washes his clothes himself with their rickety old washing machine. Jongin, the domestic heathen, brings his to the laundromat so someone can do it for him. It’s a luxury that he affords himself every other week.

 

He has never thought he could even be more in tune with Kyungsoo but, apparently, he is wrong. He seems to be more aware of the older male now, eyeing him and running his eyes over the man’s nice figure. Jongin’s a weak man and sometimes, his eyes linger on Kyungsoo’s ass.

 

Like now, Jongin trips on thin air when he notices Kyungsoo in the kitchen, unaware of his presence and discreetly adjusting his underwear. He pulls it away from his skin, adjusting the hem that has ridden up his butt, and it could have been his imagination but the snap of the garment against Kyungsoo’s skin is audible.

 

Either it’s that or the snap is the thread that holds Jongin’s mind together finally, after years, breaking.

 

Kyungsoo is startled at the noise that his fall has made and he turns around, brandishing his spatula like a weapon. It would have been comical if Jongin’s face is not on the floor and there’s a large flame raging low in his belly.

 

“Oh, my god,” Kyungsoo exclaims. “Are you okay, Jongin?”

 

The older man hastily brings his spatula down, walking quickly to where Jongin has fallen down to help him up. Kyungsoo wraps his hand around his bicep and another wave of heat envelops Jongin when he notices that Kyungsoo’s fingers have a long way to go before they go around his muscled upper arm.

 

He stutters, “I-I’m fine. Just tired.” It’s not a lie, per se. They’re university students during their final year—they’re always tired.

 

Kyungsoo clicks his tongue, mouth twisting in an admonishing way. Weirdly, it sends a flare of warmth into Jongin’s stomach—the different kind. Jongin can’t believe that Kyungsoo can make him feel so horny he wants to die and so in love he’s never been more alive.

 

He pulls himself up, with minimal help from Kyungsoo despite the way the older man has held him. Kyungsoo points to the breakfast bar, ordering him, “Sit there. Dinner's almost done anyway.”

 

Jongin obediently follows, hitching himself up on top of the high stool. Kyungsoo goes back to preparing their dinner—soy bean stew and some vegetable fritters from what Jongin can see. As usual, he busies himself with eyeing his flatmate and Jongin breathes a sigh of relief because Kyungsoo’s wearing those soft Pororo printed pajama pants that are just overall loose on him after his weight has dropped last year. It clings on his soft hips and the shirt he’s wearing is thin and a tad short but it’s nothing Jongin cannot handle.

 

It’s nothing he has not handled before.

 

Kyungsoo’s humming and swaying his hips, wiggling, and it makes Jongin happy that the older man is enjoying himself. There’s nothing sensual about the movements—it’s Kyungsoo just having fun by himself. Jongin lets out a slow stream of air, sighing at the sight in front of him. Moments like this one has him falling even deeper for the older male, disproving him every time that he can never love Kyungsoo more than he already has.

 

It happens at least thrice a week. Jongin is used to this feeling by now.

 

Kyungsoo turns off the pot of stew and he places it in front of Jongin with a smile. The scent wafts into his nose, delectable and appetizing. Two bowls of rice quickly follows and Kyungsoo goes back to the vegetable fritters still frying on the pan.

 

Absent minded, the older man whispers to himself, “Where is it? Where’s the—” The rest of his question is reduced into a bunch of mumblings and Kyungsoo skips to one of the cabinets. He opens the cupboard and Jongin’s eyes almost bulges out of his sockets when Kyungsoo stands on the tips of his toes, one hand braced on the counter as his other arm reaches for a bowl on the uppermost shelf.

 

The shirt rides up and the pajama pants fall down. Jongin sees a peek of lace and his mind blanks out. Static noise echoes in his ears and the universe feels like it’s reduced within the confines of their kitchen, revolving around the black fucking lace panties that Kyungsoo is wearing.

 

It digs on the man’s soft flesh, like it’s maybe a little small, and Jongin gulps. 

 

Kyungsoo drops down with a frustrated huff and tries again.

 

Jongin sees the black again and maybe he’s hyperventilating right now. Maybe he’s dead. The black lace is still there.

 

Kyungsoo makes a sound of frustration that should not turn Jongin on but it does and he's sure as fuck that he’s going to hell for it. He stands up from his seat, says, “I’ll get it, shortie.”

 

He’s so fucking thankful his voice does not shake, seriously. His knees do, however, and he has to take a calming breath or five. He can survive this—he’s survived his advanced econometrics course while being in an honors program with only two major cry fest.

 

This is nothing compared to the exams he has to take.

 

Kyungsoo turns around with a playful glare and a pink pout, retorting, “I’m perfectly average sized. You’re just too big.”

 

And, okay, Jongin’s a healthy male and that statement is prime dick joke material right there. If Kyungsoo is not Kyungsoo then he would have busted out a loud “That’s what they all say!”

 

Except Kyungsoo _is_ Kyungsoo and Jongin thinks, _advanced econometrics twice over is way easier than this_.

 

He smirks at Kyungsoo direction, asking, “What is it that you need?”

 

Kyungsoo turns the stove off after inspecting the fritters and he answers, “Paper towels.”

 

Jongin reaches for them without problem. Kyungsoo is average (or a little below average, like an inch below average) in height but he also has short arms. He tosses the unopened roll towards his flatmate and Kyungsoo carefully removes the packaging and tears off a length of squares.

 

He places it on top of a plate, fishing out the vegetables and putting it over while the oil soaks through. 

 

“Let’s eat,” Kyungsoo sing songs, making his way towards the breakfast bar.

 

Jongin helplessly follows but his mind is filled with black lace against soft looking skin.

 

 

*

 

 

Jongin makes the executive decision to consult his best friend. He invites Sehun to a modern speakeasy two blocks away from their university. The man grumbles about their thesis but he shoots the younger male a pleading gaze and he quickly crumbles.

 

He also has to promise it’s his treat but a few thousand Won is collateral in the face of Jongin’s dilemma.

 

“You never treat me,” Sehun says once they’re seated in the quietest corner of the place. Slow music plays overhead and the steady chatter of the patrons is a nice backdrop.

 

“I’ve treated you many times, Sehun,” Jongin grumbles.

 

“Without reason,” the taller amends.

 

“Well…” Jongin trails off and Sehun’s stare becomes suspicious in an instant.

 

“So there is a reason,” he concludes. 

 

Jongin does not even refute but before he can explain, one of the staff comes by to take their order.

 

Sehun asks for something pink and fruity and a large serving of salted egg chips to share. Jongin peruses the menu but does not see anything familiar. Everything sounds disgusting, frankly.

 

“What’s your specialty here?” He asks, running over the words on the menu.

 

The waiter smiles at him patiently, answering, “Our secret recipe— _lingerie_.”

 

Jongin straightens up at the name and he almost lets out a loud expletive. His eyes turn towards the wait staff with a disbelieving stare but the male just returns it with the same practiced smile. Jongin groans and says, “One of that—that. _Lingerie_.”

 

The waiter tells them to wait and Jongin turns to Sehun again. Silence passes between the two of them and Jongin allows the younger man to pull his phone out. Jongin does not want to speak yet when they have yet to get their alcohol.

 

When the waiter comes back after a few minutes, he sets down a huge plate of chips topped with a salted egg based sauce. Their drinks follow immediately after and Jongin takes a long sip of his. Sehun is more sedate with his drinking but he’s not the one going through the end of the world between the two of them.

 

“Stressed out much?” The man asks.

 

Jongin nods and takes another sip.

 

“Spill then,” Sehun commands imperiously—one of his many talents. He takes a chip and pops it inside his mouth. Jongin is a good best friend so he holds his mouth off until Sehun has swallowed what he’s chewing. He’s not sure he can perform the Heimlich properly lest Sehun chokes.

 

“Okay,” he says. “What do you think of dudes wearing female underwear?” Jongin is blunt and not in the habit of mincing his words.

 

Sehun takes a second to process his words before his eyes turn mildly reproachful. “I would think it’s not my business.”

 

Jongin shakes his head vehemently as Sehun looks at him like he’s lower than the dirt stuck underneath his shoes. He explains, “No! I mean—yes. It’s not my business but… Isn’t it weird?”

 

He bites his lip and Sehun gives his a hard stare. “Weird how?”

 

“Well,” Jongin pauses and takes another gulp of his drink, not even bothering using the bendable straw. “It’s—you know? Kinda… a turn on?”

 

Sehun’s judgmental eyes turn confused before they turn wide with what seems to be realization. He gasps, leaning in and whispering quite loudly, “You called me here because you’re having a crisis over a newfound kink?”

 

And that.

 

That is why Sehun is his best friend—the man always puts it into concise words.

 

He nods.

 

Sehun sighs, downing half of his alcohol. “We need something stronger to drink.”

 

Jongin wordlessly agrees and calls the waiter, ordering the both of them a bottle from the bottom shelf.

 

 

*

 

 

In the end, Sehun’s advice culminates into: “Don’t knock it 'til you try it. And please, for the love of God, try and figure this shit out, Jongin, because we have more important things to do—like our fucking honors thesis.”

 

 

*

 

 

Jongin does not knock it but he can’t exactly say that he has tried it. He spends many nights inside his bedroom looking over porn sites and trying to figure out this—kink, as Sehun has called it.

 

The thing is, none of them are doing it for him. 

 

Sure, objectively, he thinks it’s hot. Pretty men in female lingerie—their cocks all wrapped up in a variety of underwear designs. But it usually ends at that—objective.

 

Nothing does it for him like Do Kyungsoo and he thinks it's probably some sort of misguided Stockholm Syndrome. Underwear is really just underwear—a skimpy piece of fabric so nothing is hanging around wildly. But when it comes to Kyungsoo, the older man has brought things that Jongin has thought of as normal items into, well, kink territory. Like lace or sweatpants or thin shirts—even cartoon printed aprons.

 

It’s really ridiculous, at this point.

 

When Kyungsoo asks him to go out for dinner, Jongin always sweats coldly and, with a flat voice, replies, “I’m busy,” or “I already have plans. Sorry.”

 

He pretends he does not see the hurt in Kyungsoo’s eyes and the pout that is taking over his round face. Jongin dives into their thesis, reviewing a bunch of journals about the linkages of crime and poverty. He lets it take over his life and he feels, momentarily, slipping out of Kyungsoo’s clutches.

 

When he gets out of his room, it's to bring a small pot of instant ramyun inside or his trusty Gatorade—sometimes, a can or two of Red Bull.

 

Amidst even more academic papers and econometric models, Jongin dreams of Kyungsoo and the expanse of pale skin alongside the feeling of soft lace against his fingertips.

 

 

*

 

 

It's a Friday night and Jongin’s feeling good after submitting the literature review to his and Sehun’s thesis adviser. He’s relaxing on the couch with a can of beer and the tv is playing an American film from the 90s. Jongin has only caught the movie half way and he can’t exactly follow the subtitles when his eyes are cloudy with the slow drowsiness that comes with the alcohol.

 

It’s late and Kyungsoo has yet to come in through their front door. There's a note pasted on the fridge that he’s going clubbing with a bunch of friends. Jongin’s really not worried—Kyungsoo’s usually the designated sober buddy in most of the outings. The man prefers to stay on the healthy side of tipsy and not being the type to be completely wasted that he forgets his own name.

 

On his third can, almost close to one in the morning, he hears fumbling outside before the door swings open loudly. Jongin scowls but before he can take a peek towards the door, Kyungsoo stumbles inside the living room. 

 

Jongin straightens up in surprise and he sets the can of beer on top of the coffee table. The older man is flushed red and he almost trips over his own feet.

 

“Hi, Jongin,” he slurs and if Jongin is wondering how drunk Kyungsoo is, then the dopey smile on the other man’s face is a pretty good answer. It turns out that Kyungsoo’s pretty fucking drunk.

 

Jongin sits frozen in place as Kyungsoo prowls towards him, complaining, “It’s so fucking hot here. Did you even turn the AC on?”

 

His hands go to the button of his jeans and before Jongin can even say anything, he has already popped the metal button. The drag of the zipper is quick and Kyungsoo pulls the denim off of his shapely legs. It comes off and Jongin’s eyes roam all over the exposed skin of the other man’s thighs. The dark fabric paints a sinful image as it goes down on Kyungsoo’s calves. Jongin’s flatmate kicks the jeans off as he walks carelessly.

 

His pinstriped silk shirt falls on the tops of his thighs and the neckline is too low—really, truly. It steals away Jongin’s words and his heart pounds inside his chest as his cock stirs within the confines of his boxers. He’s regretting not wearing pants now, in an instant.

 

The silk of Kyungsoo’s shirt falls against his pale skin and the thin black stripes that run vertical on the fabric does not distract the debauched image that Kyungsoo is painting in front of Jongin. He suddenly feels very sober as his hands turn clammy and every nerve in his body works overtime with the hypersensitivity.

 

The shirt is too fucking short and Kyungsoo drags himself to Jongin’s direction before plopping down on his lap.

 

“Fuck,” he curses helplessly. What can Jongin do when Kyungsoo has all but straddled him, soft thighs spilling out? His mind is once again empty and the slight buzz of the beer is instantly killed when Kyungsoo's breath fans on his face.

 

The older man’s forearms rest on his shoulder and fingers play with his hair. Kyungsoo traces the fades on the side of his head. He runs it upwards, towards the longer strands of his undercut, careless and not styled.

 

Jongin's hands curl into tight fists as he presses it against his stomach, avoiding to touch Kyungsoo.

 

When he looks down, the shirt has ridden up even more.

 

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo whispers and moves a bit. 

 

Like spontaneous combustion, Jongin’s skin flares up when he feels against his bare thigh the drag of what appears to be lace. It feels like lace—soft with some embellishments, a little scratch on his skin.

 

“Are you wearing—” He can’t help but ask.

 

Kyungsoo smirks and he leans closer. “Panties?”

 

Jongin takes a deep breath and everything feels real. At the same time, this feels too good to be true—like something out of his wet dreams. He nods, not trusting his voice, not trusting if he can still speak.

 

Kyungsoo’s hands caress the line of his jaw before they move slowly, featherlight on the skin of his arm. Jongin curses himself for wearing a muscle tee and resolves that, if he makes it out alive after this, he’s going to be buying himself a onesie.

 

The touch sends tingles down his spine and a jolt towards his dick. Kyungsoo grinds against him and he moans out loud at Jongin’s half-hard length. Hands clasp Jongin’s own and he trembles when Kyungsoo guides it on top of his thighs.

 

Kyungsoo uncurls Jongin’s fingers as he places Jongin’s palms on top of each. He rubs soothing circles on the back of the taller man’s hands and Jongin groans before he starts kneading the fleshy thighs.

 

They give under his movements and Kyungsoo bucks his hips up and moves closer. He’s sitting right on top of Jongin’s dick before he makes little bouncing motions. The lace scratches against the fabric of Jongin’s cotton boxers and the shirt hitches a little to reveal the bright red color of the underwear.

 

Jongin’s right hand slides upward and he slips his index finger underneath the hem of the panties. He hooks it and tugs it downward and Kyungsoo gives a loud moan in response. Jongin’s other hand moves to cup the older man’s ass and he grips it tight, causing another cry to escape from the other’s plump lips.

 

Kyungsoo’s cock head peeks out of the band of the lingerie and Jongin can see the beginnings of pre cum. The silk shirt is still hitched up, displaying Kyungsoo’s smooth tummy.

 

The older man pouts suddenly when he presses himself even closer. Jongin’s not really sure if it’s Kyungsoo who moves or he pulls the man towards him.

 

“You ignored me for a long amount of time,” he complains.

 

Jongin’s mouth twists downward, slightly apologetic. He lets go of the fabric he has clutched and he fixes it properly so it sits on Kyungsoo’s pelvis nicely. His right hands joins the left, massaging Kyungsoo’s ass. There are little breathy moans escaping out of Kyungsoo’s mouth.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I was confused.”

 

“Over what?”

 

“You.”

 

Kyungsoo scowls at that, “I thought you liked me.”

 

Jongin’s eyes widen and they really should not have this conversation while Kyungsoo is out of his mind with the clouds of alcohol and sitting on top of his lap but Jongin’s always been a giver when it comes to the older male.

 

He sighs, admitting, “Yes.” Kyungsoo’s lips suddenly attach on the skin below his ear and Jongin bites his lips, curbing the sound of pleasure so he can still speak. “For literal years now.”

 

Kyungsoo’s movements still before his mouth trails to the side, meeting the skin on the corner of Jongin’s own lips. He murmurs, “Me too.” He places a tender kiss there and the overwhelming heat that is bursting inside Jongin subsides into the warmth of affection towards the male on his lap. “I’ve wanted you, always. And I like you too.”

 

The confession sends Jongin into a frenzy and his heart beats wildly at the thought of the chance that is presented to him. Alongside the sudden surge of confidence and triumph, there is insecurity.

 

He removes his hands on Kyungsoo’s ass and he pulls the hem of his silk shirt down. Kyungsoo makes a questioning noise and Jongin’s one hand cradles the back of his head as he kisses Kyungsoo’s forehead.

 

“You’re drunk,” he says. “We’re not going to do anything.”

 

Kyungsoo’s eyes widen at that before a heart-shaped smile stretches on his pretty face. Jongin lifts the older man up easily as he feels thighs wrap around his waist. He holds Kyungsoo’s bottom firmly as he walks the two of them to the older male’s bedroom.

 

There are still remnants of arousal between the two of them but it’s nothing a cold shower can’t fix. When Jongin lays Kyungsoo on top of the covers, the man’s dick has already gone down. He gives him a smile as he fixes the red underwear around wide hips, patting the soft belly affectionately.

 

Kyungsoo giggles as he wiggles around so he’s underneath his navy blue comforter. He snuggles into his pillow and it does not even take a minute before he falls asleep.

 

Jongin leaves the room quietly with a light heart and a big smile.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm still pissed but yeah


End file.
